Deadly Shadow

by Kim Cresswell

  His father gave him the officer’s name and home address.

  “You know what needs to be done after you’ve obtained the laptop. We obviously can’t chance this coming back on us.”

  Derrick checked his watch then spotted a dark figure walking briskly toward him. The moon illuminated the figure as he drew closer. The man was about forty-years-old, short and heavy-set, wearing a black CPD toque and leather jacket. He had a laptop under his arm.

  “This wasn’t easy to get out of the evidence locker,” the man said.

  His voice was raspy, and he was struggling to breathe evenly. A life-long smoker, Derrick guessed.

  He passed Derrick the laptop.

  Derrick took it and handed him a white envelope filled with cash. “Thanks.”

  The officer fingered through the cash then stuffed the money in his jacket pocket.

  “Are you sure this can’t be traced back to me?”

  Derrick shook his head. “You won’t need to worry about that.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Warm breath brushed against her cheek. His lips slid down the length of her neck. Then he looked at her…blue eyes…dark hair.

  Victory jerked upright in the darkness of the bedroom, disoriented, her mind muddy from the wine she’d drank the night before. Goosebumps broke out over her bare arms and legs. Why was she dreaming about Derrick? The dream felt so real. It was if he had been in her bedroom. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and looked around the room, relieved she was alone. She glanced at the clock’s red digits and let out a sigh. Six a.m.

  It was probably the wine, something she didn’t drink often, combined with Josh not being around for her birthday. Or maybe Derrick’s appearance at Melissa’s house was still bothering her? It was as if he had been there for something other than an interview. His timing at Melissa’s house stunk, felt wrong then, and still did.

  After a quick shower, Victory got dressed, and put her gun in her holster then headed to the kitchen. She walked past the spare bedroom where her daughter was staying. The door was partially open. Jade probably wouldn’t be awake until after Victory had gone to work. It was wonderful to have her home, even for a few days. And she’d be back the week before Christmas again, to celebrate the holidays for the second time without her father.

  Victory hit the button on the coffee maker then padded to the hall and grabbed the newspaper delivered every morning outside her apartment door.

  When she returned, she tossed the paper on the kitchen table and poured a cup of coffee. Her phone rang, and she cringed, hoping another body hadn’t been discovered. She snatched the phone off the counter.

  “You’re up early, Vic.” Ryan said.

  “Too early.”

  “Why are you up? Usually, I’m the one dragging you out of bed.”

  Victory pulled out a chair and sat at the table, her eyes traveling to the front page of the newspaper, to the photograph of Jeremy Elder.

  She lied. “I couldn’t sleep. What’s up?”

  “Elder’s Acura was found abandoned on Neeb Road.”

  “The guy isn’t stupid.” Another thought hit her. “That’s about halfway between his house and where he dumped Angel Hogan’s body.”

  “He might still be in the area.”

  “Have the locals and our guys quietly beef up their presence in the area.” She heard Angie’s voice in the background.

  “I have to go, Vic. I’ll pick you up around eight.”

  Victory set the phone down and skimmed the rest of the front page as she drank her coffee. Eddie Bullington’s death had taken up less space this time around, only three sentences. Further down the page, another headline caught her attention.

  CPD OFFICER FOUND DEAD FROM APPARENT SUICIDE…Randy Tiller, a ten-year veteran of the Cincinnati Police Department was found dead in his home early this morning…shot with his service pistol…

  It was the fourth suicide to hit the CPD in the past six months. The officer’s name was familiar. Victory was sure Sean had mentioned him during many of their conversations while working on The Wrapper case. Over one hundred law enforcement officers had taken their own lives the past year in the US and that number was modest. PTSD and depression were the top causes. More officers had died of suicide than from shootings and traffic accidents combined. The grim reality of a tough job working the streets.

  She got up and set her mug on the counter, ready to pour another cup of coffee when a knock at the door startled her. Victory went to the door and peered through the peephole. Her pulse sped up when she saw who was on the other side. She ran her hands through her hair and checked herself in the small mirror, hanging next to the closet.

  Another knock. This time louder.

  As a precaution, her hand instinctively slid to her gun holster. Victory drew a deep breath and let it out. She unlocked the door and opened it part way, uncertain how she felt about letting him in. Part of her was angry he’d gotten into the apartment tower and past John. The other part was intrigued as to why Derrick Lynn was standing in her hallway.

  She looked at him. His haunting blue eyes met hers and her breath caught in her throat for the second time in days. “How’d you get into the building?”

  “Your doorman. He’s a talkative guy. I think he’s trying to play match-maker.”

  There was no telling what Derrick had told John to gain entry into the building, and Victory would be checking out Derrick’s story. Her eyes shifted to the two large coffees in the tray in Derrick’s hand, and the bag of freshly baked goods from one of her favorite bakeries, Chic Girl Sweets.

  “Since you had to cancel our dinner plans, I thought I’d stop by with breakfast.” He held up the paper bag. “Donuts, croissants, and muffins. The best I could come up with this early in the morning.”

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “No.” He smiled. “Not with you.”

  After her dream about him, Victory stood there and debated for a long moment. She finally gave in and opened the door. “Come on in. I’ll take those.”

  He passed her the tray of coffee and baked goods.

  While Derrick took off his coat and boots, out of the corner of her eye, she caught her wedding photograph on the mantel. This would be the first time she had a man in her apartment other than co-workers. It felt weird, as if in a strange way she was cheating on her husband. Victory shook the thought from her mind, knowing she was being too hard on herself.

  She pointed toward the kitchen. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in minute. My daughter’s home from college. I don’t want to wake her.”

  As Derrick walked by, he asked, “How old is your daughter?”

  “Twenty-three going on forty.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  He shook his head. “No. And I’ve never been married either.”

  She found it odd that an extremely attractive man in his mid-forties who ran a successful gaming company would be single. Her investigative skills kicked in. “Why is that?”

  “I suppose, always being too busy with work. And the fact I’ve never met the right person. What about you?”

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say, the truth at times still too painful to say. “I was married. Josh died last year.”

  Uncomfortable silence pulsed through the air.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Victory watched Derrick set breakfast on the table. “Be right back.” She walked down the hallway to the spare bed room, opened the door and poked her head inside.

  The blinds were open. Sunlight splashed across the bed and floor.

  The bed was still made the way Victory had made it before Jade had come home.

  Hair on the back of her neck prickled. She walked inside the room and noticed a note on the corner of the dresser. She picked up the paper and read the message.

  Meeting some friends at Ultra Club 51 for a few hours. Love J.

  With two serial killers roaming the streets,
Victory tried to squash the panic rising in her chest. She looked at the bed. Jade hadn’t been home all night. She clutched the note in her hand and went back to the kitchen, telling herself to stay calm.

  “Something wrong?” Derrick handed her a coffee.

  Victory took the coffee and sat down at the table, placing the note beside her. “I don’t know. Jade. She didn’t come home last night. It’s not something my daughter would normally do.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling this to a man she barely knew, and one she suspicious of.

  His gaze moved to the note, then back to her. “Maybe she’s staying at a friend’s house.”

  Her stomach tightened, signaling something wasn’t right. Her motherly instincts were always spot on, always had been. Victory grabbed her phone from the table and typed a text message and sent it to her daughter. Then she sent a message to Rebecca and Marley, two of Jade’s closest friends.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Derrick said.

  Victory wanted to believe him. She took a drink of coffee and observed her hand trembling slightly.

  Derrick reached across the table and touched her hand. “You’re shaking.”

  The same familiarity of his touch that Victory had experienced in his office when they first met, spiked through her. She moved her hand away and set down her coffee.

  “It must be tough being a mother, and an FBI agent.”

  “At times it is. All the horrible things I’ve seen throughout my career are always in the back of my mind. All I want to do is protect my kid from the evil in the world.” Her phone beeped.

  Derrick smiled. “Maybe that’s her.”

  Victory seized the phone and checked the display. Her heart felt as if it had stopped as she read the text message from Rebecca.

  Jade left the club before we did

  Have her call me when she gets up

  She sent another message.

  Is Marley at home or with you?

  A few seconds passed, and Victory’s phone beeped again.

  She slept over at my place last night. Something wrong?

  Déjà vu hit Victory, like a punch in the gut. Her hand shook as she clutched the phone. She contemplated answering the message but changed her mind. Panic, dark and threatening surged through her as images of The Wrapper’s victims looped through her mind like a horror movie.

  She looked up at Derrick. “I need to go to the club.”

  Derrick stood. Lines crept across his forehead. “I’ll drive you. You’re trembling like crazy.”

  She nodded, realizing even her head was shaking.

  As Victory put on her coat and boots, a dozen scenarios raced through her mind. She kept coming back to one. What if Jeremy Elder had taken Jade because the FBI had gotten too close? Because she had gotten too close?

  For the first time since Josh had died, Victory prayed to God she was wrong.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  As Derrick sped the SUV down McMillian Street, tree branches along the road appeared bent, twisted out of shape under the weight of the snow. He was happy he had the reporter’s laptop, but things could still blow up for everyone involved with the Elara Project. They still had no idea who had leaked the information to Melissa Mann. He tried not to think about it, at least for now.

  Victory sat next to him, talking on her phone. She’d made call after call, looking for her daughter, with no success. Derrick was worried too. From what she’d told him about The Wrapper, considering his own line of work, he was even horrified. He hoped she was wrong about the serial killer and Jade had spent the night with another friend, someone Victory didn’t know about. A new boyfriend, perhaps.

  She ended a call and quietly peered out the side window.

  “Any luck?”

  “Luck is nothing more than the imaginary line between disaster and survival. I’ve experienced it, dealt with it.” Victory continued to stare out the window.

  Derrick couldn’t imagine what she was feeling right now, not knowing where her daughter was. He clutched the steering wheel and turned into the club’s large empty lot and parked. He spotted her partner leaning against his vehicle next to the three-storey gray vinyl-sided building.

  Victory opened the door and high-tailed it to Ryan.

  Derrick killed the engine and sat for a moment, then got out and followed her. It was colder than he had expected. He glanced at the dull, gray sky. It seemed almost menacing, somehow. Bitter cold air brushed against his face and stung his skin.

  “How you holding up, Vic?” Ryan asked, his voice overflowing with concern.

  “I don’t know. I’ve contacted everyone Jade knows and no one has seen or heard from her. I’m afraid he has her, Ryan. We have to find her.”

  Derrick caught the emotion in her voice, the way her voice quivered slightly, and her tone changed.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Sean’s at your place checking the apartment building’s security footage and any other cameras in the area.” Ryan looked over her shoulder and glanced at Derrick. “What’s he doing here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “But—”

  Victory stiffened and held up her hand to stop him. “This isn’t the time. Can you get a hold of the club’s owner and get him over here right away? I need access to the cameras.”

  Derrick heard her voice came out firm and steady, considering the stress she was under.

  “I’ll get on it.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to find her, Vic.”

  Ryan stared at Derrick briefly and pulled out his phone and walked away.

  She turned to Derrick. “Sorry. He can be intense at times. He means well.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. Emotions are running high.”

  Ryan walked toward them and stopped beside to Victory. “The owner of the club will be here in a couple of minutes. He lives pretty close.”

  “Okay.” Victory’s voice and gaze drifted away.

  Derrick could tell she was deep in thought the way she was staring at one of the camera aimed at the parking lot. He noticed something else, something dark and personal—fear in the back of her eyes.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  On the third floor of the club, Victory stood inside a spacious storage room, her eyes glued to video footage of dance floor. Ryan was next to her, going through the video from the parking lot while Derrick had slipped out to get them coffee.

  Victory’s phone buzzed. She yanked the phone from her pocket with break-neck speed.

  “Sean, any news?”

  “I’ve got a screen grab from a camera across the street from your apartment. A blue Toyota Camry. I’m sending you the photo now.”

  Her phone beeped. Victory checked the message. A grainy photograph filled the screen. The air swooshed out of her lungs.

  Jeremy Elder.

  Her legs turned to mush, about to give out. She fought through it, steadying herself against a metal shelf, knowing the only way to help her daughter was to remain strong even though Victory was dying inside. She’d lost Josh. She couldn’t lose Jade too.

  “Vic?” Sean asked. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It looks like he was parked there for quite a while, watching your building. We ran the plate. It’s registered to Betsy Elder, his dead mother…”

  Sean continued to speak but Victory had already tuned out. Her greatest fear had come true. The Wrapper had Jade.

  At the same moment, Victory’s mind deserted her. She screamed silently into blackness and the blackness screamed back. Sanity seemed to flee. She visioned herself as a wild animal, pouncing on Elder, slicing and ripping his flesh with sharp claws and teeth. Then something interrupted her. It was reason. Cold, hard logic. It dragged her back and held her firmly, making her understand that her child needed her. She must remain calm, and sane, and focused on what she needed to do. Victory knew she needed to push her raw emotion aside the best she could, just as years of training and experience had taught her. She had to maintain a
professional detachment for Jade’s sake, no matter how difficult. She forced herself to focus.

  “…couple of my CIs are working the streets and a dozen guys from patrol,” Sean said.

  “Alright, Sean.”

  Victory lowered the phone, the panic returning, her lungs tight. Her heart thumped. She couldn’t breathe. She gasped, then let out a sharp breath. Her eyes met Ryan’s and she passed the phone to him. “Elder was parked outside my apartment building last night.”

  Ryan’s eyes widened. He took the phone and looked at the image then looked up at her. “Christ. That’s him.”

  A beat of tense silence filled the space.

  Her mind flooded again with images of The Wrapper’s victims, vivid and cruel.

  Another body would turn up.

  The contents of her stomach surged up the back of her throat. Victory snatched a small plastic waste basket from the floor and threw up in it as Derrick returned with coffee for them.

  Derrick handed Ryan a coffee. “Is she okay? She looks really pale.”

  “I’m right here. I can hear what you’re saying.”

  Ryan shook his head and exchanged glances with Victory. “The Wrapper has Jade.”

  Derrick frowned and set the other coffee cup down next to one of the monitors. He touched her wrist gently in a comforting way. “What can I do to help?”

  “Unless you can find Jade, there isn’t much you can do,” Victory said, her gaze lingering on his face, hating to have to say the horrible truth out loud.

  “I have a helicopter. Money. Anything. Whatever you need.”

  Victory appreciated the offer from a man she barely knew. But there was nothing Derrick could do to help find her daughter.

  “How did he know where you lived?” Ryan’s eyes shifted to Derrick.

  Her mind churned, searching for the answer. When she found the answer, it hit her hard. “Oh, God.” Her stomach gurgled, and her shoulders slumped. “Jade had strep throat last year during spring break. I picked up a prescription for her at CenterTown Pharmacy because Walgreens was too busy. I’d completely forgotten about it.” Victory wrapped her arm around her stomach and fought from vomiting again.